


a thread that won't be cut

by elenathehun



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Arranged Marriage, M/M, Mangekyou Sharingan, Soul Bond, Unconventional Peace Treaties, non-canonical use of the Mangekyou Sharingan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-08 11:43:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7756438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenathehun/pseuds/elenathehun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Uchiha say the ultimate form of their eyes allows the user to see the truth of all creation, unobstructed by lies.  This is true.  Madara really wishes it weren't, though, because then he wouldn't be marrying Senju Tobirama.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

_the engagement_

The final meeting place was set: Lady Chiasa's garden pavilion. It was, perhaps, a little informal, but given the two parties involved, it was the best Shinju could do on short notice. The gardens weren't really in bloom at this time of year, but Chiasa's gardener did marvelous work on shaping the pine trees, and the pavilion was sited right next to the lotus pond, which was practically the only plant that _could_ bloom in the terrible summer heat. The Uchiha leader's brother had looked rather put-out about the setting for some reason, but, well, you couldn't make everyone happy.

Best of all, Shinju had barely needed to promise anything to Chiasa. The honorable head of the Takamura Silk Combine was still so grateful for the services Shinju had provided in finding a suitable wife for her idiot son, she was only too happy to provide the location for the culmination of a difficult negotiation. The chance to gloat of having been the formal witness for the engagement of the year - no, the _decade_ \- was reward enough for her. Of course, the vast majority of the work had been done prior to this meeting, but as every go-between learned - it wasn't over until the sake was drunk, and sometimes not even then. Even after this meeting, Shinju's services as a go-between and a negotiator would be necessary for quite some time.

At dawn, Shinju was already waiting in the pavilion, Lady Chiasa by her side. Nana had already helped her set out the table and put out the requisite number of cushions before retreating to the main house; as the honorable guests refused to take food or drink from a strange household, there was no need for a server. The sun had barely cleared the horizon before the guests arrived: silently, and all at once, as was their wont. Shinju didn't give any hint of surprise, but Lady Chiasa was less than circumspect. She flinched, and hissed nearly silently through her teeth.

"I always forget how quiet they are," the older woman said, eyes flickering from one group to another. Both groups, Shinju was happy to see, came in formal robes: black for the Uchiha, cream and brown for the Senju. It was a far cry from the earlier meetings, which had been fairly bristling with armor and weapons. Oh, Shinju was absolutely sure every member of the crowd had some kind of concealed weapon on them, but at least it wasn't _visible_ , and that was the important thing. 

"Welcome," Shinju said, projecting a warm, personal tone into her voice. It was so important to seem confident and assured in these moments! More than one negotiation had ended because the mediator had lost control of proceedings. Shinju was determined that wouldn't happen here. "Please, come inside; the table has already been set."

There was a brief pause, and then Lady Mito strode up the steps and walked into the pavilion, resplendent in her clean mint robes. Today her obi was a lovely teal - the exact shade of her inner collar, as happened. Not for the first time, Shinju wondered how such a cultured, educated woman had fallen in love with Senju Hashirama; truly, it was a mystery for the ages. Mito smiled a little when she reached the table, for she'd seen that her setting had already been assigned: the third chair, to the right of her brother-in-law and across from Uchiha Izuna, thorn that he was. Lady Mito had been invaluable in the previous meetings in quelling the younger man's objections, sometimes with just a single cutting glance. He absolutely would not be allowed to rile up either of the prospective grooms, at least not in her presence.

One by one, the other guests filed in and sat at their assigned settings: Hashirama Senju, who was an uncultured oaf with the power to destroy entire cities, if rumor was true; Uchiha Madara, no less infamous for his uncanny ability to get any requested job done on time and under budget, with the caveat that a great many people would be dead, some of whom you actually might want alive; Senju Tobirama, who cut the raindrops in the sky and still remained dry; Uchiha Izuna (the less said about him the better); and finally, Uchiha Miwa, who still seemed to observe the proceedings with a keen and discerning eye, for all that she was completely blind in her senescence.

Once they had settled, Shinju smiled once more. "Again, thank you for meeting me here. This should be quite quick; without the usual meal, we only need to exchange the betrothal gifts to make this arrangement official. Lord Madara, as the initiator of this process, why don't you begin?"

Lord Madara didn't bother to say anything to her, but by this point, Shinju was used to that: the man treated her like furniture most of the time. Puzzling, considering how insistent he'd been at the beginning that Shinju specifically represent him to the Senju clan, but perhaps that was just his way? He turned to his brother and held out his hand, and the other man put a simple box into it, a rather dubious expression on his face. Madara just huffed at him, before turning back to face Tobirama and sliding the box over the table to the white-haired man. Tobirama opened the box...

...and pulled out a _kaiken_. Of course. Shinju just sighed a little and adjusted her expectations once again. Most of her clients gave clothing or money, sometimes food if they were particularly wealthy or particularly poor. But then again, most of her clients were merchants or wealthy craftsmen; why would any of them bear a weapon when a shinobi could be hired instead?

Tobirama's face never changed expression, not as he inspected the scabbard, nor as he unsheathed the knife and turned it to and fro within his hands. Shinju could not tell on her own what the quality of the knife was, and she could not read any tells in Tobirama's face. In many ways, he was even more inscrutable than Madara. Madara had a temper, and he lost it quite frequently. Shinju had never seen Senju Tobirama smile, but nor had she seen him frown, either. His countenance remained as impassive as the surface of a still lake, at least in Shinju's presence. He resheathed the knife, nodded once, and put it back into the box before handing it to his brother. He then reached one hand into his own robes before pulling out a fan and holding it out, ribs first, towards Madara.

Mirroring Tobirama, Madara accepted the fan and opened it. It was, to Shinju's surprise, quite lovely: ivory slats covered with fine red paper. A pair of swallows flew across the paper, painted in black ink - an appropriate choice for a betrothal gift. Madara twisted something in the base and thin blades sprung up out of the ribs. Shinju valiantly suppressed a smile; if this didn't have Uzumaki Mito's careful hand in it, Shinju would eat her sash for dinner. Madara, at least, seemed to be pleased. There was the faint suggestion of a smile lingering on his lips, and he closed the fan briskly before tucking it away in his robes. Tobirama, in contrast, was still completely unreadable.

As if hearing some silent call, each of the shinobi present then turned their attention to Shinju. She didn't give any sign of intimidation at the uncanny synchronization, only rested her hands on the table before giving her closing statement. It simply did not do to show fear in front of such people.

"Lady Chiasa has witnessed this exchange, and I will note the engagement with the proper authorities. A marriage date will be set in the future, after consultation regarding auspicious dates with the sages. In the meantime, please return to your lands. I will visit each of you in turn to make the final arrangements," Shinju stated, then stood and bowed to the collected shinobi. All of them rose and returned her bow, before filing out of the pavilion once again. Less than a moment later, they were gone.

Shinju waited a moment more, just to be sure, then sighed heavily and dropped her head on the table in front of her, already feeling a tension headache sear through her skull. 

"Well," Lady Chiasa said mildly. "That was something else, wasn't it?"

" _Yes_ ," Shinju said emphatically. "I'm honestly surprised it's even gotten this far; shinobi are far touchier than the most sensitive, secretive guildmaster. It's the most complicated, frustrating marriage I've ever arranged."

"My dear," Chiasa replied. "You're young, so you don't know this yet, but peace treaties often are."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my low-pressure tobimada fic, as opposed to the insane apocalyptic tobimada I'm usually crying about on Tumblr. Next chapter should be up in a week, so enjoy until then :) Tags will be edited as people and plot enter each chapter.


	2. part one

_Before the engagement_

"So what are we going to do now?"

Madara didn't bother to look at Izuna; he'd seen enough of the angry, frustrated, _disbelieving_ expression on his face, all the way back to the compound. Looking at his face again was just going to make him angry too, and he couldn't afford to get angry, not now. Not after what they'd learned earlier today.

"We're going to have to find some way of approaching them," Aunt Miwa replied, her hands tented in front of her sightless eyes. "Some way that shows we're sincere in the matter, not insulting them."

Despite himself, Madara huffed out a laugh. "Oh, yes, that will be easy. Let's just send a messenger with a letter: _Dear Hashirama. I need to marry your brother; I'll throw in a peace treaty to sweeten the pot! Regards, Madara._ Yes, I'm sure that will go over quite well with him."

"Senju Hashirama is a bleeding-heart idealist - worse than _you_ ," Izuna said contemptuously. "He might believe it's romance or something like that."

"Hashirama may be an idealist, but he's also an older brother," Madara snapped, turning his head towards his brother and frowning deeply. "If he sent a message to me saying he wanted you as the price of peace, how do you think I'd take it? How would the clan take it? Think about that, and think about how we make our approach - because that is the message the Senju will receive, and I assure you, we're not that different from them in our reactions."

"Yes, because we're all the same," Izuna sneered in response. Madara hissed at his brother, half-rising from his seat.

"Enough!" Aunt Miwa snapped, slapping both palms on the table in front of her. The china set out for tea rattled ominously.

* * *

_After the beginning_

"So you've activated the Magenkyō," Miwa said neutrally. There was no outward change in Madara and Izuna's posture or breathing, but right on cue, their chakra flared up uncontrollably. Miwa would sigh, except her own mother had beaten that habit out of her forty years ago when she first began wielding the war fan. But it was not such a surprise that their new Clan Head and his brother were so undisciplined, given how they had been raised. Kameyo had spoiled her surviving sons far too much - but then again, her niece had always been soft-hearted about her children. How she'd _raged_ when the Senju had assassinated her younger sons - for every son she'd lost, she'd gone on to kill a score of Senju in return in those bloody years of drought and famine...

"Honored Elder Aunt, how will we train?" That was the younger of the two brothers: Izuna, with a faint edge of impatience to his voice. The boy had a suspicious nature and tended to hold a grudge; not a bad counterweight to the elder brother. Miwa didn't bother to answer, only spun around and started walking towards the training grounds, barely hearing both of them obediently fall into step behind her. A part of her was pleased by how silent they were; another part was annoyed since it made it harder to keep track of them. 

The path she was walking was one she knew by heart: twenty-six steps north on the main path, then turn forty-five degrees to the right and walk behind a row of dilapidated storehouses, stopping after one hundred and forty-five steps and making the sign to dispel before walking a further fifty-two feet into the hidden willow grove. Both of the boys were silent and unsurprised - they'd probably found this area as children. It had been a formal training ground during her childhood, but with the clan growing smaller, it had fallen into disuse like so much of their property, and now, it was just a haunt for the wild rabbits and domesticated crows. 

"All right, it's quiet enough here," Miwa said. "Go ahead and activate the Sharingan. Let's see what you can do."

* * *

_Before the engagement_

"Enough," she repeated, softer this time. "Madara is right - we can't just blatantly demand Tobirama Senju as the price for peace. But we can't reveal the true reason, either."

"Because the true reason is bullshit," Izuna baldly stated. 

"Take it up with the old man under the moon, for he is the one who ties the strings," Aunt Miwa replied, her own voice dry as a desert. "For my part, I am not willing to go against destiny or divinity; nor am I willing to curse your brother to a solitary existence. I didn't think you were, either - or have I misjudged you?"

Izuna settled into a mulish silence, and Madara was thankful for it. His headache was bad enough without Izuna's shouting adding to it. Aunt Miwa reached out to pour another cup of tea, and fumbled at the teapot, off-center from where she'd placed it earlier. Madara silently helped her pour another cup, and then poured one for himself. He found himself peering into the bottom of his cup, as though sub-par green tea could give him the answers he sought.

"Just... why _him_?" Madara exclaimed suddenly. It had been bothering him since the revelation this morning. "That's what I don't understand! Why would the gods choose him as a destined partner for _me_? I've never said a word to him thus far!"

Aunt Miwa sighed very deeply and raised her right hand to rub at her brow. For just an instant, a vision of Madara's mother was superimposed on top of his aunt’s figure. She'd performed the same action, day after day, year after year, always wondering why her eldest son was so thick-headed. _Can't I have a sensible one?_ she'd ask, eyes staring up the at the ceiling beseechingly. _All I have is this one and his brother, and they both have the sense Amaterasu gave a particularly stubborn goose._

"An arranged marriage is, by definition, not a love match," Aunt Miwa said instead. "You don't need to know him, you don't need to speak with him, and you certainly don't need to understand why you're tied together. It might be as simple as the gods getting sick of our constant warfare, like those thrice-damned priests always say; that's the only way I can justify it."

"You weren't saying that earlier," Izuna muttered.

"Shut up," Miwa said, voice carefully even. "Things were different, earlier. I assumed the person at the other end of Madara's thread was one of the clan, perhaps a branch house member he'd never spoken to before."

Madara felt a strangled laugh rise up from his diaphragm, and he ruthlessly suppressed it. "Well, you were half right: it _was_ a person I've never spoken to before. And now I need him to agree to marry me _without_ explaining my sudden change of heart." 

"This is bullshit," Izuna repeated, his face set into a stubborn frown. "We're shinobi, not penny-pinching _merchants_. Arranged marriages are stupid as hell, and marriages arranged by heaven, if any such place exists, are _especially_ stupid."

"You won't get any argument from me, nephew," Aunt Miwa replied.

* * *

_the beginning_

"Out of the way!" 

His mother's voice rings across the battlefield like a bell, and almost despite himself, Izuna turns his head in the direction of her cry, trying to see where she is. There! On the right, near the Kaguya clan's right flank, next to that monster they unchain every so often and let out to rampage on the battlefield, killing foe and friend alike. Madara is ten feet away, on his knees, trying to get back on his feet as the beast reached for him-

Izuna can only watch in horror as the creature reaches for his brother's chest, bones already sprouting from the skin, gleaming in the light. Too fast, too _fast_ , even with the Sharingan Madara can't move any faster - _something is wrong with his right leg_ -

And then Mother leaps forward and slams into the berserker from the side, almost knocking it over entirely. One overhand strike with her sword, then another - Mother keeps hammering at the beast until her sword breaks in half, then leaps away to a safer distance. Izuna joins her there, a trail of lesser Kaguya clansmen bleeding and dying behind him, and together, with the smoothness of long practice, they begin making the seals for the mass fireball technique as the creature stumbles around, discombobulated by all the hard blows. 

"Now!" Mother snaps, and they release the jutsu together, white-hot flame streaming from their mouths. 

But the berserker doesn't flinch, no matter how much flame they pour on. The sickly scent of burnt flesh rises, but Izuna is used to it: it's been a near constant background scent his whole life. He'd be a poor Uchiha if he couldn't work through it. Izuna can feel sweat streaming down his face from the exertion and his mother no doubt looks similar: it's been a long battle and they're both about tapped dry. Despite their effort, the Kaguya's pet monster continues to regenerate, new skin and muscle regrowing as the old is burned away.

Just when Izuna can feel his chakra run out, his brother smoothly steps in. Well, not so smoothly; he has a pretty bad limp. Izuna doesn't have the time to evaluate Madara any further - the battle is essentially won for the Uchiha, but the berserker isn't retreating with the rest of his clan - probably doesn't even know how to. He just keeps walking into the flame, still focused on them above all else. Izuna doesn't bother to swear - it's a waste of precious breath - but he puts his sword up into the guard position and begins circling to the right, mother doing the same from the left with her wakizashi. Thankfully, the monster is still too focused on the source of its pain to pay any attention to either of them.

And then suddenly, shockingly... Madara's stream of fire _sputters_ before going out entirely. Time's up - Izuna roars as he thrusts with his sword, but the berserker doesn't even flinch, just parries his blade with one armored arm. The blow sends a shockwave up Izuna's arms, and he nearly drops his sword, fumbling it as he tries once again to hit the bastard. It's no use, though - Izuna sees that clearly. The monster is too fast, still possessed of the freakish endurance and power of the Shikotsumyaku bloodline limit, and Madara, yet again, is trapped by his own lameness. _Why couldn't you retreat, you fool?_ , Izuna screams in his mind, but he knows why. Madara would no sooner leave his last living family than Izuna would, or Mother herself. 

Izuna drops the sword in the dust, makes one final leap into the path of the Kaguya clan's pet monster. He doesn't think _I'm sorry_ because he's not, and anyway, his brother would make the exact same choice if were in the same position. But just as he reaches the point of no return, Izuna feels a twist and yank on his left arm, and he ends up crashing into Madara instead.

From his brother's arms, Izuna can only watch, unblinking as his mother-

His mother is-

Surely, she'll-

No, it-

No! 

* * *

_after the beginning_

"The Magenkyō Sharingan is both an evolution of the Sharingan and a radical break. The base abilities are all extensions of the skills you've already obtained, just at a higher level - but each individual eye has it's unique powers and abilities. You'll need to do extensive experimentation to discover what yours is," Miwa lectured, leaning against an old and very comfortable willow. The susurrus of the wind in the leaves was pleasant, as wass the shade from the unseasonable heat of late spring.

"And what was yours, Aunt?" Izuna again. Miwa had noticed he did a lot of the talking for both himself and his brother. Miwa didn't know them well enough to tell if that was good or bad.

"Time dilation genjutsu," Miwa replied, shrugging. "Only an instant in physical time, but it feels many times longer to the target. I found it excellent for both interrogation and teaching."

"Teaching?" That was the older boy's voice this time. Interesting; most Uchiha, Miwa had found, were rarely interested in the non-offensive capabilities of their most precious gift. In this, at least, Madara was proving himself at least a little bit different.

"Imagine: an advanced lesson with a student that goes on as long as necessary, but only takes a moment of time," Miwa stated in a neutral tone. "I found it useful in imparting certain advanced skills to some of the Clan."

"That's amazing," he breathed in awe, and Miwa couldn't help the small smile creasing her lips.

* * *

_before the engagement_

"Ah, here's a cheerful thought: at least you've never tried to kill him," Izuna said, full of false cheer. "Because I really think there's no way you could convince Senju Tobirama to marry you, short of Sharingan-induced genjutsu, if you'd ever personally crossed blades."

"No, I'm only the leader of a clan he's spent his whole life hating, presumably dedicated to our complete destruction," Madara replied sarcastically. 

"Yes, well, we've covered this already," Aunt Miwa sighed. "I would rather we turn our thoughts to more productive lines of inquiry, like what possible envoy we can send to the Senju that will allow us to open talks instead of restart hostilities."

Izuna turns away, but not before Madara sees the stubborn look on his face. Wonderful; he'll be no help at all, not that Madara expected any assistance from that quarter. Miwa, on the other hand, looks to be seriously thinking of a way to open a channel with the Senju. Madara doesn't expect much from her, either. She's an old woman: trying to find a way to make peaceful contact with the Senju must be killing her inside. It's certainly something she's never in her life had considered seriously before today. 

Madara's gaze drifted across the decorative screens, eyes unfocused and unseeing. No shinobi clan would represent them in this matter, not after what happened to the Nishihara clan when they attempted to negotiate a cease-fire some decades ago, but direct engagement was...risky. More than risky, if Madara was honest with himself. Hashirama had extended his hands in peace multiple times since his ascension as leader of the Senju clan; for Madara to take it now, but with such a condition attached…

Yes. Taking his brother away - that might very well trigger Hashirama’s deeply buried temper.

* * *

_after the beginning_

"And what about this?" Madara questioned. Miwa once again repressed the urge to sigh. From his tone, the boy is probably pointing something out something newly visible to his vision, but she'll be damned if she'll guess what it is. 

"There's a red thread tied to Brother's left ankle," Izuna volunteered, barely suppressed laughter in his voice. That one never missed a thing - another good sign. 

"Oh, is that all? I'm sure your mother told you boys how she and your father were married," Miwa said dismissively. It's only after the words leave her mouth that she considered the reminder of their recent loss too blunt, but better here, in private, than later, in public. Clutching grief close never did anyone in their family much good.

"You're joking," Madara said flatly. "She said she was introduced to Father at the river shrine by a relation who'd tutored him in genjutsu. She says she _knew_ as soon as he spoke to her, that it was fated."

"Who do you think introduced them?" Miwa questioned slyly.

Both brothers are utterly silent for a moment, and then-

"Are you serious?" Madara near-shouted. "I thought Mother was just being sentimental!"

* * *

_before the engagement_

"Merchants," Madara said suddenly. Izuna turned back around, and his aunt turned her head in Madara's direction, a curious expression on her face.

"We all know merchants have arranged marriages," Madara elaborated. "They must have someone to negotiate them, as well; I never met a people as concerned with contracts as merchants."

"A _nakōdo_ ," Aunt Miwa mutters. "I was hired by one as a young woman - a marriage she had arranged had fallen through, and the bridegroom's family decided to take their disappointment out on her."

Izuna sighed heavily before turning back around. "So merchants need an intermediary to set up their weddings, just like they need an intermediary to kill their business rivals. How will that help us?"

Madara almost resisted the urge to glare at his younger brother. Almost. "We hire one to act as our representative in the matter. You're right, we're shinobi, not merchants: we have no experience in this. I have no issue with hiring an expert to show us the way."

Izuna snorted. "Yes, because civilians are so willing to work for common murderers like us."

"That," Aunt Miwa said reprovingly, "is a case of doing our research ahead of time, and finding a matchmaker who is, perhaps, a little less established than most. I find the young have more appetite for a challenge - and more to prove to their elders."

Madara and Izuna had little to say to that.

* * *

_after the beginning_

"In a way, she was," Miwa replied, already bored. "I know it's been a long time since we've had more than one or two Magenkyō users in a generation, but surely the old stories still circulate."

" _See the truth of all things_ is very different from _the gods are real_ ," Izuna said in a biting tone.

Miwa scoffed, utterly incensed. "Boy, chakra is a gift from the gods; _of course they are real_. I don't know if Yuè Lǎo is one of them, but I can tell you this: for certain the red threads of fate exist, and they _always_ connect two people who are meant to be together."

It was Izuna’s turn to scoff in disbelief, but he fell silent when Miwa pointed one finger at him. "One of your duties, now that you've awakened the Magenkyō, is to see which of our clansmen have red strings around their ankles and arrange for them to meet their destined partners as soon as possible. That one of you has a partner of your own does not change things-"

"The hell it doesn't!" Madara hissed at her. "What the hell am I supposed to do with a wife?"

"I said partner, not wife," Miwa snapped at him, finally losing what little remained of her patience. "And you'll do what your parents did, which is marry that person, and live a long, happy life together. What the hell kind of question is that?"

Madara fell silent, and from the oppressive aura emanating from his direction, Miwa is certain the boy was sulking.

"...a long, happy life together?" Izuna questioned, softer this time.

Miwa blinked a little and then nodded firmly. "A long, happy life together. Is that not what every marriage ought to be?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may note that this is a different interpretation of the history of the Magenkyo Sharingan. I can well believe that Madara and Izuna were the first people to figure out the weird game of "swap the eyes!" to level up their magic to the SUPER-DUPER LEVEL, but it's pretty hard for me to believe that they were the first people in their family to develop the Magenkyo at all. 
> 
> Obviously, the abilities are slightly different, too ;)
> 
> Next chapter: Hashirama receives an unexpected counter-offer, the Senju react with the predictable riot, Mito is the sole voice of reason, and Tobirama is the only one who doesn't know quite what to think.


	3. part two

"Out of all the dumb things you've ever done, this has got to be the absolute _stupidest_."

Tōka says that with nary a tremble in her voice, for all that her knuckles are white around her spoon. The girl stares at Tobirama intently, as if to cow him with the power of her eyes alone. It's useless, of course: Mito knew within an instant of meeting Tobirama that his was a character that could not be bent or broken by anything less than death and certain destruction, and she was right. A more stubborn man never lived - except, of course, for his brother. Tōka was his cousin, and ought to know that better than anyone, except, perhaps, Hashirama himself - and sure enough, Tobirama shrugs before saying, "You're right, but I'm going anyway."

Tōka's full lips press into a severe line as she deliberately puts her spoon back onto the table, laying her hands flat. "Honorable Cousin, I want to be sure I understand this correctly. Some woman we've never heard of-"

"I know of her," Mito counters, blithely ignoring Tōka's venomous glare at the interruption. "She arranged the marriage of Takamura Seison to Kamachi Utako two summers ago and ended Mimasuyo Hisato's delusions of marrying his second daughter to Prince Yutahito's fifth son. Quite a rising star from what I've heard."

"But what does that even mean?" Hashirama asks, dark eyes curious even as he smiles at her, and almost despite herself, Mito feels herself smiling in return.

"What does it even _matter_? ...honorable cousin." Tōka snaps, tacking on the honorific as an afterthought. "Some matchmaker has invited us to a city we've never been to treat with the leader of our sworn enemy! Please, Tobirama, explain how this isn't a trap!"

"If it's a trap, it's quite a stupid one," he says, mildly amused. "The Uchiha are our enemies, and their eyes do gift them with enormous destructive power on the battlefield. But a strength in one situation is often a weakness in another. How can they hope to catch me in a city by the river crossroads?"

"Don't be such an idiot!" Tōka snaps, voice rising to an unpleasant pitch. "They're genjutsu masters beyond compare. If they catch you off-guard, you'll be dead before you can even blink!"

Tobirama frowns ever so slightly, but before he can speak, Hashirama interjects himself into the conversation - probably for the best, in Mito's opinion. Tobirama loves his family, but he's better at showing it than saying it. 

"Tōka, I appreciate your concern, but Tobirama is a grown man," Hashirama says quietly. It's unusual for her husband to be anything less than ebullient, but well...it wasn't every day a man receives the equivalent of a betrothal request for his beloved younger brother, either. "He's proven himself quite capable of defending himself, and he won't be going alone, either. We were just telling you because as our cousin, we thought you ought to know." 

It's the wrong choice of words, as it happens. A rare occurrence for her husband with the gilded tongue. Tōka's face turns as white as a sheet, and she looks from Hashirama to Tobirama and back again. "What's _wrong_ with you?" she asks in disbelief. "If you go, they'll just burn you alive, just like they did to Mama!"

Both men flinch at her cry, and Tōka takes the opening and flees the room. Tobirama makes to get up, but Mito shakes her head sharply. "Don't. I'll go after her after she's had time to calm down. But first...her mother was killed by the Uchiha?"

There's a pause, then... "Three years ago, at the end of the siege of Shigatsu. Her mother led the castle guard in defense, but after the Uchiha breached the walls..." Tobirama says, face impassive. Hashirama's face, in contrast, was twisted into a mask of sorrow. 

"They burned her alive? That seems...excessive." Mito questions in disbelief. Neither brother responds, not that she truly expects an answer. Trying to understand the Senju-Uchiha rivalry as an outsider is well-nigh impossible.

"I wish I'd known that ahead of time," Mito says with a sigh. "You two are the most addle-pated ninnies I ever did meet in my life - how did you think she would take the news? Never mind, don't tell me, I'm sure I don't want to know."

There's a heavy pause, and then-

"Brother," Hashirama asks hesitatingly. "Are you sure you want to go through with this, then? No one would fault you for refusing, given the history between our families."

Tobirama hesitates for just an instant, and his eyes flicker to his brother's face before turning back towards the table centerpiece. Mito notes it, marks it - and puts it away for later.

"No, we need to at least explore the possibility," he said. "It's because of our history that we need to take the chance. Otherwise...well, who's to say the next one to burn won't be Tōka, or you?"

* * *

The dinner is awfully silent after Tōka escapes, and Mito excuses herself after that - probably to talk to Tōka. Tobirama wishes her luck; the last time Tōka listened to him without arguing, she was a half-foot shorter and still thought swords were cool. More and more, Tobirama misses those days. All they seem to do now is argue. On the other side of the table, Hashirama is unusually quiet, but one look at his pensive face convinces Tobirama that no good can come of trying to speak with him now. He's been acting oddly ever since the missive arrived; past experience leads Tobirama to think it's best to leave him to work through it in peace.

For himself, Tobirama was avoiding speculation on this most unusual proposal. The Uchiha brothers had activated the Mangekyo Sharingan, the first to do so in nearly twenty years. But they didn't seem to know how to use it - at least, Izuna had acted _exceedingly_ strange the last time Tobirama had crossed blades with him. Stranger still was _Madara's_ reaction...

Well, learning to use the Sharingan's innate abilities was not an instantaneous process, no matter how the Uchiha propagandized on it. And the rumors about the Mangekyo were so outlandish that Tobirama personally consigned them to legend. No, better to wait and see what the Uchihas are planning before setting up any counters. Any guesses now would be counterproductive in the extreme.

"Brother," Hashirama says suddenly. Great resolve rings in his voice, and Tobirama turns to look at him with a little dread. That tone bodes ill for him in a very particular way... "I know you have a plan for meeting with the Uchiha delegation. Your new jutsu, the one still in development?"

"Well, it's exactly the kind of use I invented it for," Tobirama responds. "But I still haven't worked out the kinks in it, so I'm not sure-"

"Teach me anyway, and perhaps we can figure it out together," Hashirama interrupts. "Two heads are better than one, right?"

Tobirama has never found that to be true, but he's also never gotten the knack of turning his brother down when he volunteers to assists him, either.

"All right," Tobirama sighs. "Watch me as I go through the signs..."

* * *

Hashirama's foreign wife finds Tōka quickly, not that it's difficult. Tōka is only in her bedroom, readying herself for sleep. Tobirama would call it _sulking like a child_ , but Tōka prefers the term _readying her base for enemy assault_. Mito has lived here for months and for all that her intrusion into Tōka's family _grates_ , she's a good kunoichi. Trying to escape the other woman when she wants to follow is useless, and letting her know that Tōka wants to be left alone is like showing her throat in the worst possible way. No, better to force Mito to enter Tōka's inner sanctum and meet on her terms instead of another's.

"Tōka, may I come in?" Mito asks politely from behind her bedroom door. Tōka pauses for a moment, letting the silence stretch out uncomfortably before murmuring her assent. Mito slides the door open just enough for her to walk in, closing it behind her. Then the other woman kneels behind Tōka, violet eyes intent upon Tōka face in the mirror. Tōka doesn't try to meet the other woman's gaze with her own; she's learned the hard way that no one wins a staring contest with the Uzumaki woman. 

Instead, Tōka just continues brushing her hair with the mother-of-pearl inlaid brush her mother had given her for her tenth birthday. The brush is getting a little small in her hands, but the inlay is still good, and Tōka will be thrice-damned before she gives it up for another brush.

"I could tell the Clan, you know," Tōka said suddenly. "They _love_ Tobirama. None of them would be happy with the idea of him leaving to marry into another household. They'd riot if they knew it was the Uchiha."

"I have no doubt of that," Mito replied wryly, her foreign accent lilting over the words. So formal, Hashirama's wife. So _polite_. "But Tobirama would be disappointed in you if you did."

Tōka throws down her brush at that. "I don't care if he hates me, as long as he is _alive_! You're not one of us, Mito, and you don't understand why the Uchiha are so terrible. You've never had to fight them in pitched battle."

"You Senju..." Mito muses, picking up the brush where Tōka had thrown it and inspecting the design of spring anemone inlaid on the back closely. "If this clan spent half as much time trying to actively kill the Uchiha as you do talking about it, there wouldn't be a single one left in the world. Turn back around."

With a huff, Tōka does so, and Mito begins the process of brushing her hair once more. Her moments are both gentle and brisk - she never tugs harshly on a knot, but she still always patiently untangles it before moving on to the next lock of hair. It's almost hypnotic, and Tōka will admit that Mito is clever: this is the one time that Tōka will be still and listen to Mito instead of ignoring her words. Mito is silent, just focusing on the state of Tōka's hair for quite awhile before speaking once again. "You know, we Uzumaki have no great rivalry with our neighbors as you do, but we are ninja just the same. War is a terrible master, Tōka: can you blame your cousin for trying to shield you from it?"

"I'm not a little girl anymore," Tōka responds through gritted teeth. "I don't _need_ his protection."

"No more than he needs yours," Mito agrees. "Family can be quite disagreeable in such ways. You worry for him, and he worries for you, and both of you glare at my poor husband, caught in the middle between the two of you."

Tōka snorts and rolls her eyes. "Poor Hashirama! Poor Hashirama! This is all Hashirama's fault! If only he'd killed that bastard Uchiha when he was a kid-"

"Enough," Mito says firmly, ending mid-stroke. "You say you're not a child, so prove it: _think_. How would killing Uchiha Madara end the war between your clans? There would always be another Uchiha to take his place, and there always will be. Unless I'm wrong, of course - do the Senju have the strength and will to kill every single Uchiha?"

"We have the strength-"

"But not, I think, the will to kill them all, down to the youngest child in the cradle," Mito responds cuttingly, every word precise. "Don't protest, that's what would need to be done to end it permanently, and even so, there's always a hidden son or daughter popping back up fifteen years later in search of revenge. No, that path isn't open to you, no matter how you might think you prefer it. Some kind of peace is more reachable."

"But marriage! Tobirama, married to that brute!" Tōka cries out. Shamefully, she feels her eyes burning in preparation for tears, and does all she can to control her emotions, just as she learned in her lessons. "I can't bear the idea of it!"

"Don't be melodramatic, Tōka," Mito sighs, unruffled. "This is an opening move in a long negotiation. I really doubt Uchiha Madara _wants_ to marry Tobirama of all people. It's just a test to see how dedicated the Senju as a whole are to peace. It's one thing if Hashirama wants to end the war; it's quite another if Tobirama supports it as well."

And then Mito stops the conversation short by restarting the careful brushing of Tōka's hair, clicking her tongue in disapproval every time Tōka tries to speak. The task seems to take both forever and not long at all, and before she knows it, Mito is carefully handing the hairbrush back to Tōka and standing to leave.

"Do you really think so?" Tōka asks suddenly. "About the Uchiha just doing this as a dare?"

"I do," Mito declares firmly. "And either way, Tobirama will not be traveling to Kurashiki alone."

"You'll go with him?" Tōka questions, skeptical. 

"If it's a marriage negotiation Uchiha Madara wants, it's a marriage negotiation he'll get," Mito says. "I see no reason why he shouldn't meet his prospective in-laws. Don't you agree?"

* * *

Hashirama is in the middle of testing his brother's new jutsu when his wife walks in...on all six of him currently present. She raises one eyebrow, circles the Hashirama nearest the door, inspecting him closely.

"Hello, dear," Hashirama-by-the-dining-table says nervously but stops when Mito holds up one outstretched hand. The message is unmistakably clear: _silence_. She stops behind his back, peers a little more closely at the fabric of his robes, rubbing it between the fingers of her left hand as she hums thoughtfully.

"Mito?" Hashirama-by-the-interior-door asks uncertainly.

In answer, Mito only smiles before balling up one pretty fist and punching him right in the kidney. That Hashirama bursts into smoke, and Hashirama-by-the-garden-door is suddenly hit with an influx of memories from that clone - right before the feedback causes him to lose concentration. _All_ the clones disperse, and within a single moment, Hashirama is left with the worst headache he's ever had, worse than all the Mokuton tension headaches of his youth combined.

"Ugh," he says, wobbling, and then his knees give out beneath him. He catches himself on the palms of his hands, and just rests there for a moment, trying to get his head straight. "Mito, why would you do that?"

"Oh, I was just testing the stability, dear. They've got to hold up to quite a lot of abuse to be useful, you know," she says sweetly. Hashirama knows better, though: his wife is a terrible person. "Where's Tobirama?"

"Well, he was escorting one of my clones to the forest to test my range," Hashirama complains. "I suppose he'll return here soon since he didn't get very far."

Mito laughs, and the noise rings like a bell: a very loud, annoying bell. Hashirama flinches and she lays one cool hand on his brow - when had she crossed the room, anyway? - but sighs in relief as his wife releases healing chakra to soothe his headache. 

"Cheer up, love," she says warmly. "We have a lot of work to do, and we're only just beginning."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terribly sorry for the wait, everyone! I got sidetracked by another story I'm writing, as well as the most recent chapter of Best Case Scenario, and by the time I made my way back to this story, I had a hell of a time writing it the way I wanted it to be. 
> 
> Next chapter: Shinju formally introduces the Uchiha delegation to the Senju delegation, and a fun time is had by all. Maybe.


End file.
